Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

by Ann Chaney

  Moreham sighed and pulled her into his arms with his head resting on hers “My sweet, we must go. Should anyone be about, we must be found on the bridle path in the east fields. It will not do for anyone to question our whereabout this morning. Such a discovery will alert those men and they will scuttle their meeting and all our hard work will be for nothing,” Moreham whispered.

  He was right, if they were found near the abbey a careless word among the tenants could alert the traitors and ruin everything.

  She led the way to the small door. Once outside, she was sightless from the sun’s glare. She stopped and blinked to accustom her eyes to the light of day. Moreham obviously having the same trouble with his vision, walked into her and sent her careening forward. She would have fallen to her knees, if he had not acted quickly to keep her upright

  “Can't see a thing after that dungeon blackness. Gillian, hold on to my arm and we will find the horses. Time to make for the east fields.”

  “I don’t want to. I brought you here. You don’t need me anymore. You can go ahead and tell me you told me so. You were right. I cannot see this through. I cannot ruin my uncle. He’s been a father to me. There must be some legal law about blood kin not causing harm in a court of law. Wives can’t testify against husbands. Surely, my relationship to Uncle Whitney is as strong a bond.” Gillian jerked away from his hold on her arm. All she wanted was her life back from before she sought him out. What a fool she’d been.

  Moreham stood still for a moment before stepping closer to her but keeping a respectable distance between them. At that moment, she wanted him to toss all caution to the wind and take her in his arms again. To tell her all would be well. She knew he would never do such. He was Moreham after all.

  “My dear, I know we overheard a damning conversation. I know you are hurting. All I can say is you must remember Philly’s admonition. Nothing is, as it seems. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember her words. I also heard the words spoken in the courtyard.”

  Moreham reached for her and folded her against his chest. “Dearest, don’t give up hope. Trust me, our enemy is playing the same game as we. I will not condemn the duke based on a conversation between two men I do not know. Now, we have a satchel of food to eat. Shall we leave this place? Gives me the willies.”

  She held firm. She had to know what he thought. “Moreham. You heard the man. They captured someone. Could it be Sturm?”

  Again, Moreham said nothing as they made their way down the path to the horses. He stepped into the clearing and retrieved the reins to both animals before replying. “Nothing new there. We assumed he had been nabbed. Don’t give up on Sturm. He is a wily character and his captors will have to be vigilant to keep him in their grip.”

  “You mean he is like Percy?”

  “I guess I do mean that. Now, up you go.”

  Moreham tossed her up in the saddle before doing the same. He nudged Paladin closer to her mount, leaned in and kissed her. “Don’t fret, dearest. I’m at your side. It is more important now than ever for us to work together. I am not convinced your uncle is involved with the sympathizers. Coming here today hasn’t changed anything.”

  “I pray Thursday morning dawns and everyone I care about is still breathing and sitting down to breakfast together with this nightmare behind us.” She tapped her heels to set her horse in motion. This time, Moreham was in the lead.

  Chapter 13

  Moreham remained behind her until they passed into the lower fields once more. She nodded over to the north, rode to the next rise and waited for him to join her.

  He eased his horse next to her mount. “I am feeling a little peckish. Shall we find a tree to sit under and enjoy Cook’s scones?"

  “There is a grove of trees just over the next hill. It is a favorite picnic spot of mine. Should we be found there no one will think it out of the ordinary. I go there often when I’m home.”

  The thought of sharing a meal filled her with anticipation. He might be her husband according to the church, but in her mind, they were virtually strangers.

  She led the way and dismounted before Moreham could assist her. After being in such close quarters in the abbey, she needed still needed distance between them. Needed time to recover from the scent of his cologne, the tickle of his warm breath on her neck when he whispered a little too near her ear.

  Moreham had other ideas. He walked toward her with the satchel of food.

  “Here, hold this and I will spread out the rug. After a morning of riding, I am ready to lie about for a few minutes. Aren’t you?”

  “Um…yes I suppose a rest would be nice. We must not tarry too long. We are supposed to be here overseeing the house party arrangements. Also, I don’t want your mama to feel abandoned by us.”

  “Don’t fret about her. You are my wife, and she is over the moon with happiness. I am sure you can do no wrong in her eyes.” Moreham finished straightening the blanket before taking the basket from her and falling to his knees.

  “Do you feel that way? You don’t know me. What do you think a wife’s purpose should be?”

  “I have never had a wife before, so I am not sure what the purpose of one truly is. I have friends who are married and from my observations, their wives do not bow to their wishes. I will say I don’t think I would like for my wife, you, to bow to my wishes. Isn’t the give and take in a marriage what keeps a couple interested in each other? I would venture to say, those couples we both know who seek comfort elsewhere are merely bored. My parents relished each moment together.”

  Moreham opened the satchel and pulled out two bottles of lemonade. To her delight, he delved back into the satchel and produced a loaf of bread with a wedge of cheese which he handed to her. Gillian set about to slice the bread and cheese. She laughed when Moreham revealed two serviettes with a flourish worthy of any footman.

  She placed the bread and cheese on the serviettes and handed him the cloth with the larger portion. When he didn’t demur at her gesture, a warm glow filled her at having done something nice for him.

  He reached into the satchel again and brought out a cloth bundle. He unwrapped the packet to reveal two of Cook’s scones. He took one and broke a bit off. With a now familiar glint of mischief in his eyes he grinned at her as he nudged her mouth open then slid the baked goodness between her lips. The dry scone refused to go down. Moreham seeing her dilemma handed her his bottle of lemonade to drink. He grinned at her and made a show of drinking from the spot where she had. She’d never seen a more arousing sight in her life.

  “Indeed, I may have to think about this notion of marriage a bit more. I find I like the look in your eyes at this moment.” Moreham chuckled.

  Gillian tried to smile, tried to appear unfazed by his gesture. She had no notion he had a playful side. This man was so unpredictable.

  Moreham broke off another bit of the scone and took possession of the last slice of cheese. He turned from her to look out over the field around them. Intent on proving the man’s flirtation had no effect on her, she picked up the last bit of scone only to realize her ploy was for naught.

  The dratted man was asleep!

  Moreham had taken off his wide brimmed hat and laid it on the rug. Gillian grabbed the floppy hat and swatted his arm.

  “Moreham, wake up. We should be returning to the house.”

  Without so much as a yawn, Moreham sat up. Grinning at her, he repacked the satchel and stood up with his hand out. With a growl, Gillian took his hand.

  “You weren’t asleep, were you?” she demanded.

  “No, I was watching you. As I said, I must reevaluate my views on marriage. I haven’t had this much fun in years.” With those words he reached down for their blanket and the wicker basket before tossing her up on her horse. The irritating man whistled all the way home.

  His words struck Gillian dumb. The man was having fun. She was lying to her uncle, he was risking their lives to catch traitors and the man was having fun. She needed to reevaluate their marri
age in particular if this was her husband’s idea of fun.

  Gillian and Moreham spent the rest of the day visiting the tenants who had farms on the eastern side of the estate. Moreham knew should anyone ask about their whereabouts, the tenants would provide evidence they had called on the farmers and their families. He marveled at Gillian’s easy manner with her uncle’s tenants.

  The highlight of the afternoon was their stop at the tenant holding of her friend Jan and her husband Michael. Jane dragged her off while Michael gave Moreham a tour of his farm. Why couldn’t life be simple for them as it was for her friends?

  They rode toward the manor side by side. Only once the manor house was in sight did Gillian speak. “Moreham, tell me the truth. What do you really believe is going on here? Is my uncle a French sympathizer?”

  He thought for a moment, trying to find the words to answer her without causing her any more pain. Even thinking such a thought told him how emotionally involved he was with her. Not a good revelation at all. Emotional thinking got many a good man or woman killed. The history books were filled with such. He pulled back on the reins and slowed Paladin down to a halt before answering her.

  “I think this group of snakes have survived as long as they have because they are wily. Please don’t be offended, my dear, but I have come to realize your uncle is not an overly intelligent man. He is a simple man who enjoys his comforts and loves his wife and niece to distraction. Not a cold-blooded traitor.”

  “Are you waving a flag of surrender?” Gillian laughed. “I’ll fight the urge to tell you I told you so for the time being. I’m so relieved you are coming around to my way of thinking. So, what do we do next? Hide in the cells and wait for the dastards to come. We are but two people even if every traitor in England showed at the abbey, we couldn’t take them into custody.”

  “I’ll send for Cross. Others will continue the search for Sturm. Cross won’t be happy with me, but he’ll do his duty as we all do when called to do so. He’ll be here by tomorrow evening. We also have Philly and my mama to help us.

  “Five of us to watch another twelve counting the duke and your Aunt Isadora will be enough. I am certain the reason Wednesday night is the meeting night is there will be a full moon. I’ll return tomorrow and scout out the ruins. Once your uncle leaves for the meeting, Cross and I will follow.”

  “Moreham, you promised I would be a part of the investigation. You gave me your word.”

  “Let’s not worry about the details just yet. As for the meeting, I have no intention of confronting the fiends and arresting anyone. We will hide and observe the attendees. Between Cross and myself, we know most of the gentlemen about Town, of both good and bad repute. We will identify the men. Cross will return to Town and turn the names over to the Alien Office for further investigation and arrests if warranted. No one will ever know of our involvement.”

  “What about Uncle Whitney?”

  “As I said, I am not convinced he’s involved. Let’s not invite trouble by worrying about Whitney. After spending time with him, I find it hard to believe he is a traitor. However, if he is a part of this conspiracy, he will be arrested with the others.”

  “Moreham, I trust you. You must trust me as well. I will not be tossed aside. No matter what happens, I will see to my uncle’s safety. Don’t try to manipulate me to do otherwise.”

  She’d timed her vow perfectly. Before he could reply, grooms met them, and their intimate outing was at an end.

  Moreham would have preferred to remain with Gillian for the remainder of the afternoon. However, Perkins accosted Gillian with an entreaty to review the house party arrangements one last time.

  “Perkins, I will be along in a moment,” she assured the butler before turning to Moreham. A sweet smile curved her lips and lit up her eyes. For an instant, he wished they could return to the stables, retrieve their horses and ride out again. This time to one of her favorite haunts on the estate where they could enjoy each other without the intrigue hanging over their heads.

  “I enjoyed our ride and the picnic. It has been far too long since I have done either.” Her words warmed his heart.

  “I promise there will be more of the same in our future,” he assured her. Moreham winced at the sight of distrust in her eyes.

  “Perkins and Mrs. Osgood need me. Both are concerned about the other one’s interference. They should have married long ago, and we wouldn’t have this constant state of discord.” Gillian reached up and kissed his cheek.

  Moreham fought the need to grab her and hold on. He seldom felt regret for his actions as an agent. Knowing he had provided Gillian with a means to remain involved in this rat’s nest of traitors did not sit well with him at all.

  A footman cleared his throat to announce his presence. “My lord, a courier has delivered a packet from your man in London. I have taken the liberty of arranging the desk in the library for your use. You will not be disturbed.”

  He waited for the footman to leave them before speaking. “It seems I am also needed. A cold reality of my life is my correspondence follows me wherever I go. Even on my wedding trip.”

  He squeezed Gillian’s hand before heading for the library and the latest word from London. A part of him wished for a missive telling him all had been discovered and he and his harem of spies could return to Town. Maybe then he could woo his wife and keep her by his side.

  He asked for a pot of tea before closing the library doors behind him. The weathered leather satchel sat in the center of the bare library table. Moreham hesitated before opening the bag. Such reluctance was alien to him. Normally, he was chomping at the bit to review the reports from London.

  Now, his mind was preoccupied with Gillian. This was the reason he had never pursued the ladies. His work was too important. He refused to allow any distraction from his duty to the Crown. His father had died because he believed he could have a normal life while serving as an agent of the Crown. His mother had become a widow because of that train of thought and Moreham an earl far sooner than either had ever wanted.

  Moreham walked the circumference of the library looking for any peepholes or listening posts hidden in the woodwork. His inspection was slow going. The walls had carved scrollwork where a mechanism could be disguised. The portraits on the walls were another possibility. He lifted each frame one away from the wall to see if there was a listening post behind them hole in the wall.

  Satisfied the room was safe, he reached for his document case. Only he knew how to break the seal. Not even his secretary knew the secret. Such a precaution was necessary. He never knew who was after the information the packet contained.

  He sat down and sifted through each document looking for any bit of information that would help them. He found he couldn’t focus on the words on the pages in front of him. The need to seek out Gillian grew stronger each moment. A tap on the door startled him. He looked up hoping to see his wife entering the room and instead found Cross walking through the doorway.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Chasing down Sturm. I found Freddy Simpson drunk in the Dials. Never gets drunk unless he has been paid. Offered him more money. He said the word around the Dials was a government man with blonde hair was abducted before dawn yesterday. Freddy didn’t know the whereabouts of the agent. Sturm’s missing and Whitney’s hosting a house party ordered by an unknown traitor. Since I don’t believe in coincidences and neither do you, I decided to join you. I stopped at every tavern on the way here and learned a carriage with three men stopped at two of the taverns only an hour ahead of me. Unfortunately, I lost the scent about ten miles from Whitings. Sturm is nearby.”

  Cross dropped down into one of the two chairs by the library table. The man looked exhausted and dejected. Sturm was his best friend. Both men started working with him together. While many of his agents preferred to work alone Sturm and Cross did better as a team or so they believed. The two men were as close as brothers. Closer even—they truly liked each other.

  H
e decided to distract his friend for a few minutes, Moreham nodded toward the table with his papers. “I have been reading the reports from London. No one is reporting any suspicious activity. Gillian and I rode out to the abbey ruins this morning. We overheard two men. Before you ask, I didn’t see their faces, nor did I recognize their voices. With Gillian by my side, I didn’t venture closer. Didn’t want to risk her coming to any harm. The men talked about a meeting. It would seem, my friend, we have indeed landed one step ahead of the traitors.”

  “Well done, Moreham.” Cross slapped him on the back. “Too many have been lost in this war of espionage.”

  “Well done, will be when we have this band locked up in Newgate waiting to be hanged. We shall ride out in the morning. Best to play our hand close to the chest or Gillian will insist on coming with us. My wife has provided enough assistance to the cause. The woman misses nothing, so do not let your guard down this evening.”

  As if to prove his point, no sooner had the words left his lips than his wife entered the library. Moreham forced a smile to his lips. “Dearest, I was just telling Cross how much I am enjoying our wedded bliss.” He chuckled.

  Gillian joined the men and gifted Cross with a smile. She turned to him. “I beg to correct your assumption that I will meekly surrender to your wishes. You will include me in your ride out tomorrow morning.”

  “My lady, you are well suited to be the earl’s wife. You share a propensity for listening at keyholes,” Cross opined with a wink.

  “There is no need to eavesdrop when I know how my husband’s mind works. I am certain you think to leave me behind. Gentlemen can be very predictable.”

  “Gillian, shouldn’t you be arranging for tea in the drawing room or ensuring dinner will be served at seven?” Moreham wanted her out of the library and off to handle one of the many details her uncle had asked of her. She didn’t belong in the middle of a planning session to bring down a cutthroat organization bent on destroying Britain.